Snowpocalypse
by punkXrockXkid
Summary: It's an extreme snow day in South Park, let's check in on some of the local residents and get their opinion on things.


**Please remember I do not own South Park**

South Park, I'm sure you've heard of the place. Your favorite little mountain town with not much going on? Well unless you counted the five feet of snow.

* * *

Stan Marsh yawed and blinked slowly. He glanced over at Kyle who was sleeping right next to him, his red hair falling into his face. Stan leaned over and kissed the top of his head before climbing out of bed.

He stumbled down the stairs and went to retrieve the morning paper like he always did.

As soon as he opened the door a fresh pile of snow rushed into the warm house. Stan quickly shut the door and ran back up the stairs.

"Kyle, wake up! Dude wake up you'll never believe this!" Stan yelled as he jumped into bed. "There must be like six feet of snow out there, I couldn't even get outside." Not that he tried. And like that Kyle was instantly awake.

"Really?" Stan nodded and smiled at Kyle who returned it fully. "I'll get the movies."

"I'll get the hot chocolate!" The two laughed and began to prepare for their movie day. Stan tossed Kyle the remote and was about to leave for the kitchen.

"Hey, do you want marshmallows?" Stan asked while Kyle searched for his missing socks.

"Don't I always?" They couldn't wait to put on a DVD and cuddle up together, just the two of them in their fuzzy pajamas.

What else was a snow day good for after all?

* * *

"Tweek, you have to calm down. You know what Dr. Blackwell said." Craig replied, trying to coax his boyfriend out from under the kitchen table.

"No way, it's a snowpocalypse! We're all gonna die!" The blond cried as he scrambled away from Craig's grasp.

"For the last time, we are not going to die. It's a little snow that's all." Craig repeated calmly. As much as he hated to admit it, Tweek's discomfort was his discomfort. "So please, come out and have breakfast with me."

"In other news, South Park citizens are trapped inside their homes. Chances of them freezing to death are reported to be very high. We'd send the National Guard however nobody knows where the _hell _South Park is!" Tweek announced in a slightly eccentric voice. His imitation of a report was otherwise flawless.

Craig sighed and grabbed onto one of Tweek's legs, effortlessly pulling him out from under the table.

"I love you, and I don't want have to hit you. So please stop." Tweek took a deep breath and nodded.

"Right, could you make me some coffee? I could really use it." Craig stared at his boyfriend, not moving an inch.

"Craig…?" Craig bit his lip and squeezed his shut, already preparing for the worst. "Oh my God, I know that look!"

"What look?" The raven asked with eyes still tightly closed. Tweek was already up and yanking things out of the cabinets.

"W-we're out of coffee! Oh m-My God… I'M GONNA DIE!"

"Damn you snowpocalypse." Craig swore and watched as Tweek dove back underneath the table. Snow days were absolutely good for nothing.

* * *

Clyde jumped down from the sofa, squirt gun in hand. "Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na!" He sang as he jumped around wildly to the music. His was slightly surprised by how much he could move in his skin tight jeans and leopard print muscle shirt.

"Shut up and let me see your Jazz-Hands!" Token yelled into a Nerf Gun. This leather pants protecting his knees as he fell to the floor. "Remember when you were a madman?"

"Thought you was Batman and hit the party with a gas can!" Clyde sang along, not caring when his yellow sunglasses fell off.

It was one of their favorite snow day pastimes. Dress up in ridiculous outfits and sing along to ridiculous songs.

"Kiss me you animal! Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na!" They yelled in unison. Clyde pointed his squirt gun animatedly while Token rocked the air guitar all around the large living room.

"You run the company."

"Na, Na, Na, Na, Na,"

"Fuck like a Kennedy!" Clyde moved his hips along to the music and fist pumped when Token did a flip off the coffee table.

"Na, Na, Na, Na, Na,"

"I think we'd rather be…"

The brunette threw down his squirt gun and started to head bang. Oh Yes, they'd never tell their friends, but snow days we're always good for using the Karaoke Feature on Token's big screen TV.

* * *

"My client refuses to settle your Honor. The plaintiff is obviously a hoe." Eric Cartman said, shuffling through papers.

"Objection! The defendant has lack of evidence and bad comebacks." Wendy announced, her client being Ms. Polly Prissy Pants.

"Clyde Frog would like to state that he would never, and I repeat _never_ harm Polly Prissy Pants. The claims she is making have devastated him emotionally. We'd like to counter sue!"

"Cartman you can't counter sue now, we're still going over case number 76." Wendy frowned and slammed her briefcase down.

"I think we should ask the judge. What do you think your Honor Peter Panda." Eric cleared his throat and spoke again. "Why Cartman, I think you should sue that skinny bitch…everybody loves you."

"Ugh! We're going to need another Judge, this one his obviously bias and delusional if he thinks _your _cool."

"Ay! That's not true. I am cool!" Every time some kind of disaster happens (That Eric hadn't caused) they lock themselves in the large teen's room and have debates and pretend trails. Mostly with Eric's old stuffed animals that he refused to throw away.

"The court favors Clyde Frog and his emotional problems! We win Hoe."

"Mistrial, we declare a mistrial! The judge is sexist and so is the Defendants representative!" Wendy yelled while Eric stuck his tongue out at her. Suddenly the two looked around and realized, not for the first time, what they were doing.

"This is seriously fucked up right here." Wendy muttered, and pulled her hair back.

"…You're just mad because we won."

If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that snow days were fucked up.

* * *

"Isn't Candy Land just the dandiest game, Kenny?" Butters smiled and moved his gingerbread man three steps forward. He had successfully avoided the Molasses Swamp.

Kenny sighed and drew another card. "Yes Butters, its _sooo_ much fun." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. He pushed his blue gingerbread piece to the next color. "Your turn."

"Aw, well gee Kenny aren't you having fun?" Kenny tapped his chin; he could tell Butters the truth. He would much rather be doing things other than playing Candy Land, things that involved him, a sexy blonde, and his bed.

"Buttercup, I have to tell you the truth." Butter's eyes light up at his pet name. He bit nervously at his finger nails, waiting for Kenny to speak his mind. "I'm having the best time I've had in a long time."

"You're the best Kenny, I'm so glad you love this game as much as I do. You know for some reason you're the only one who ever wants to play with me!" Butters ranted on, while Kenny rolled his eyes and pushed his player another five squares back.

"I'd like to take you to Candy Land…" He was sure the little teen in front of him would never notice the spaces.

"Hmm, oh gee Kenny! Look there, another four spaces!" Kenny rolled his eyes, but in the most loving way he could. "I think I might win this one!"

"You've won the past seven; I don't see why you wouldn't win this one." Butters eyed him suspiciously. He glanced down at the game bored, not noticing the cheating that was going on. He shrugged and placed a loving hand on the others shoulder.

"It's okay Kenny. With enough practice anything is possible." Kenny smirked and gave Butters a playful wink.

"That's my motto."

"It's a gosh darn good one, oh it's your turn!"

Kenny glanced to the window, snow covering everything in sight. In his personal opinion snow days could be spent doing much dirtier things than playing Candy Land.

* * *

"Yes I assure you'll be the first one. We're doing_ everything_ we can." Gregory cringed as he heard another round of shots being fired. "Chris Dear, I'm on the phone love." The Brit said, covering the phone speaker with his free hand.

"Well…we're trying another…method. There was too much snow for him to dig around." Gregory winced again; he was about ready to pull his hair out. "Damn it Christophe! I can't hear myself think!" He yelled, not caring if the person on the other line heard or not.

"Yes, I'm sure the shovel is working properly its just-Christophe I mean it!"

Of course carrying around a shovel had its good points. It means you'd be the only one with any chance of getting out of your house in these types of conditions. But who's crazy enough to haul around a shovel?

"Zen stop zinking, beetch." Ze Mole.

"Tell Tweek to hang on. We're working as fast as we can."

"We? I do not zee your ass over 'ere getting rid of snow!" Gregory shot Christophe a look and went back to his phone call.

"Yes, I'll call you back. Good bye." He slammed the phone down and stormed over to the Frenchmen. Christophe was apparently trying to shoot the snow to death.

"How many times do I have to tell you? We can't shoot our way out of this!"

"Well ze shovel wasn't working, 'ow else am I suppose to get us out?" Christophe took a drag of his cigarette and offered it the blonde.

"You're mocking it. It's pissed because of you, you've offended it." Gregory replied taking drag himself.

"Zink of all ze sheet you said to eet!" Christophe snapped and grabbed his cigarette back.

"Look, Tucker is having a fit. Let's face it, we're South Parks only hope right now."

"South Park eez doomed." The brunette finished gravely and flicked ash out the open door. If a professional digger and trained mercenary couldn't get out of this what hope was there?

"Maybe not, I might have an idea." Gregory ran out of the room, leaving a curious and slightly annoyed Christophe behind.

"Zis eez bullsheet. Worst ide you 'ave ever came up wiz."

"Whatever, just you keep going!" Gregory called out to the chain smoker; they sat crossed legged on the floor, hair dryers in hand in a desperate attempt to melt the snow. "If we're lucky we can reach our cars by tomorrow afternoon."

Snow days…

_**A/N: *Sigh* I can't get out of my house right now…But hey I hope you enjoyed it! **_


End file.
